


We are the ghost children, we do not care

by KaneNogami



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaneNogami/pseuds/KaneNogami
Summary: There is a knock, doorknob being turned without her permission. Are they here to arrest her, put an end to her nonsense before it can afford to spill over them all?“Get up, we're getting milkshakes.”She gasps, realizing she forgot something important.Her own brother.Ben.





	We are the ghost children, we do not care

     One week since their return, seven days of silence and isolation. Back to being thirteen in a cruel world. Vanya should be grateful for this illusion of familiarity, except she is not. That's the cage, back around her, ensnaring her until she is unable to breathe. If she was able to stand without exhaustion invading her body, she would run as far as possible, imitating Five. Vanishing into the night and never been seen again. She tried it once, awaiting for hours at the bus stop, only to return to indifference. No one noticed her back then, and she doubts there is any change.

They should fear her, await for her revenge. What they have done is— she refuses to forget and forgive. That's meant to be a second chance, she supposes. That's what they would like her to believe. How does it feel, to have to face their old nightmares once more? If childhood drove her off the rails years later, she isn't the only one who has been damaged by the education provided by their cruel father.

Remaining in her room, she avoids meals, aware that no one will bother knocking on the door outside of Mom. It's fine, if her stomach is empty, it's how she feels inside too. As if there was a void growing in the pit of her stomach, dragging her organs one after another until she is nothing but an empty doll. A violin whose strings have been cut harshly, in a swift move. She ponders over the pills and it's funny but she has never been one for consequences. The book is a proof of that, isn't it? That was her first attempt at a semblance of existence, and she messed it up. Vanya still takes some, choking on the weight of lies, alongside snacks Mom leaves in front of the door when everyone else is sleeping. She munches on what's meant to be comforting, only to find everything bland and dull.

She wants the Academy to vanish, walls smashed down and everything exploding. The urge gets stronger until her eyes turn her into something eerie and familiar at once. She traces the shape with her fingers against the small mirror of the bathroom when her siblings are gone or asleep. Everything feels wrong at once, and she starts to loathe this child hidden behind that terrible fringe and gloom expression. She waltzes into empty corridors, aware of cameras and possible punishment while being aware it won't happen. She would have to matter for that. Seven is merely a defect, tucked at the end of the line. No one will notice.

 

Don't they remember? Is she the sole soul able to stop the apocalypse? Is she meant to _want to_? Vanya isn't sure.

 

She sits on her bed, refusing to touch her violin, afraid of causing something she won't be able to stop. There is a turmoil, questions piling up in her mind. If they know, are they planning something behind her back again? She shouldn't put any trust in her siblings, not after everything they have done. Her hearing isn't back on the right side, not fully. She isn't sure why, since the injury is meant to have happened in the future. Does Klaus still have tattoos then? Mementos covering his body until they tell a story he wants to forget.

 

The world will end.

She does not care.

 

_Why?_

 

 

     She expects another endless night, her tiny room reminding her of that damn place where they locked her without any regard for her safety. It has been a week and one day, why don't they come? Why can she only rest all the night, energy refusing to return? She isn't trying hard enough, _that man_ would say, and she hates— _him_ —them.

 

There is a knock, doorknob being turned without her permission. Are they here to arrest her, put an end to her nonsense before it can afford to spill over them all?

 

“Get up, we're getting milkshakes.”

 

She gasps, realizing she forgot something important.

Her own brother.

 

_Ben_. She remembers his shyness, how he was so reluctant to fight, uneasy each time his powers were used. His books, everywhere in the house, ready to be grabbed when he felt like it. Under a cushion, behind a lamp—he seemed to find joy in finding them randomly, inviting words into his mind akin to a reunion with old friends. Vanya has countless things to say, none accepting to come out. She stares, in the same way she did back then, hoping father would once look at her, with no avail. There is hope at once.

 

Is he the same child that he was back then? Or the adult who grew up as a ghost, bothering Klaus although no one believed him (maybe she did, _sometimes_ ).

 

“Don't wear your uniform, we need to blend in,” he mumbles, gesturing towards her dresser without trying to step forward.

 

Getting milkshakes? She blinks, eyes changing for a second, before wondering if she owned anything else beyond her uniform. That would make sense, and yet, she only feels dread as she gets up to open the dresser, facing countless skirts she doesn't like and dresses never worn.

_I can't,_ she wants to shout until the mirror and everything else breaks.

 

“I figured it would be like this, so I brought some stuff.”

 

Ben steps forward, leaving a pile of neatly folded clothes on her bed. He turns around immediately, gesturing in a way which means he'll be waiting in front of the door until she's ready. That's so foolish, she has no idea of what he is trying to accomplish. Vanya certainly lacks the energy to walk outside right now. Not when she barely eats and spends her whole time laying on her bed without moving.

 

Under her fingers, the fabric is soft, almost comforting.

Fuck it, she is sick of being trapped in this terrible place.

 

 

     The diner is a memory she had forgotten. Once or twice, they got out all together, Vanya kind of adding herself to the mix without asking, a hint of courage in her steps. It's the same thing tonight, as she sits in front of Ben, wearing his clothes. The hood covers her hair, part of her face too. And that's better, as she'd rather not witness her reflection in the window.

No one cares about children like them, the kind who hang outside in the middle of the night, instead of being in bed. Or perhaps they do. It would explain the waitress adding some food with their order although they only got milkshakes. She takes a tentative sip, confused at how fresh it feels. It's as if her throat had been parched for years, begging for something sweet and kind. Vanya drinks for a moment, teeth attacking the straw until she grows bored.

It's only then she notices Ben twirling his inside the drink, left untouched. What if there was poison? Why is her mind like this, on the verge of paranoia, as if she was Diego getting ready for a stand off with criminals? Vanya hesitates, having been rejected too often to believe herself able to do anything for her siblings. Especially not when they are thirteen again, controlled by a man filled with delusions.

 

“Don't you remember how to drink?” The question sounds so silly, she winces as soon as it leaves her lips. He has been back for eight day, so he has certainly—gotten used to eating again. Oh, Ben has been gone for so long, almost dead for as long as he was alive. “Sorry,” it's the only one she wants to say such words to. Well, perhaps Allison too, for her throat. The others do not deserve such thing.

 

She has ended the world once.

She could do it again.

 

“The taste is still odd. Feeling things is a hassle, if you ask me.”

 

Oh yes, she can understand. Emotions are a cause for disaster, hers always on the verge of an explosion. She nods, slumping against the boot until her body starts to slide down. That's fine, there is no one to see her not being the perfect little girl. Who could care if she wasn't anyway?

 

Seven will never be the ghost child again.

Neither will Ben, if they are lucky.

 

When he doesn't obtain a verbal reply, her brother pushes the straw between his lips, shivering as the liquid invades his mouth. It shows on his face, she notices, the way he isn't truly having a great time. Obviously, he is stuck with her rather than Klaus of the others.

Distrust is a powerful enemy, one which has always been there, hidden under her inability to defend herself. Their father turned every single one of her siblings into messed up things. There was a point where she felt relief, at being 'normal'. At least she wouldn't turn out like them, too broken for her wounds to be mended, abandoned by loved ones. What a joke, Vanya ended up being the worst one of the bunch. The unforgivable sister.

 

“Didn't like your book that much, that chapter about me was kinda pitiful. But what can I say, at least you didn't trash the dead kid.”

 

There is a hint of amusement in his tone, something cynical as he winks. Honestly, there wasn't much to confess about him, he was certainly the one who would have made the best leader. Focused and capable of using the sole braincell the seven of them seem to pass around. She lifts her head a little, milkshake cold under her fingers.

 

“I could always write a sequel,” she is trying, with all her young (so tired) mind. She has no intention to ever throw her feelings against paper in such away ever again. It did nothing to alleviate the pain in her chest in the end.

 

“I can share all of Klaus' secrets if you want.”

 

That's a joke, they are too close for this to ever happen.

Why aren't they talking about what she has done? The crime she carries so deeply no one else wants to talk to her any longer? She glances at the doughnut laying on a napkin, grabbing it slowly with her free hand. The frosting is covered in little marshmallows, making her think of Five. Being forced to go through childhood once more—he is certainly not going to enjoy it.

 

“So, when are you gonna throw your pills away?”

 

Vanya chokes on her food, having to put everything back on the table as her throat is suddenly too constricted for her to breathe. She is drowning once more, unable to hear what he says next, certain there is no way to fix the situation. The pills—she takes them less, yet completely stopping them would mean—ah, she has no idea. Consequences be damned, she loathes them as much as their father.

 

“Now?” She suggests, taking the small bottle out of her pocket.

 

Ben hums while finishing his drink, giving her time to decide. They could throw it off a bridge or something a little too dramatic but fitting for their family. What if father suddenly remembers her existence though? Unlikely yet problematic.

 

There is an edge in her body, something threatening to shift at the wrong word, a pause lingering around for too long. She isn't convinced of being able to control herself yet.

 

“How do I—deal with my power?”

 

There is a glimpse of horror, when she closes her eyes for a moment, something about a doll laying limp on the floor of the kitchen. Except the limbs are too long, and there is an answer she doesn't want to figure out.

 

“I'd love to exchange the tentacles, although I'm afraid I can't. What I can promise though, if that we have years to figure this out together.”

 

“The others, they hate me.”

 

“I wouldn't go that far. Are they a bunch of idiots? Certainly. Keen on murdering you? I'd say that's more likely for Diego to strangle Luther right now.”

 

They share a knowing look about _the moon and how annoying their brother can be_ , before Vanya nods once more. She feels like a lost kid once more, unsure of what she should do to belong. A part of her wants for them to suffer and pay, the other is too exhausted for that. She tried once anyway, and look at what happened to the planet. Pitiful.

 

The future hasn't happened, right now.

It can be changed, that's what she wants to believe in.

 

“All these years, you were with us, weren't you?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“No one believed Klaus.”

 

“We didn't trust you either, so I'd say we are all to blame, as usual.”

 

It sounds too simple. Vanya could argue that's not right, except she does not. It's one in the morning, surely the argument can wait for another day. There will be plenty of those, if they are lucky. She watches as he walks to the counter, handing out money in a way which makes him look a regular around the place. Do the others escape so often? Jealousy flares at once.

 

There is a crack on her glass, prompting her to run her fingers across it until it's time to leave. That's fine, it's only a tiny mark, nothing too tragic.

 

For now.

 

“Thank you, for taking me out tonight.”

 

On the way out, she throws her pills into a trashcan, feeling lighter.

 

How she longs to take him into her arms, once they are standing in front of the house. The distance remains nonetheless, Vanya isn't ready to be close to her siblings right now. It's too much to ask from her. Ben doesn't seem to mind, guiding her through the fire escape until they are back inside without adding a word.

 

For once, Vanya sleeps better, enough to leave her room the next morning.

The ninth day is a start.

 

 

      Scissors glide against her hair until it's resting against her shoulders. Vanya watches her reflection, wondering if it's truly her in the end. She asks for her bangs to be left alone, hoping they'll grow enough to be parted on the side of her face in a couple of months. That sounds so long, almost an eternity. Still, she can do it. Father has been observing, judgmental gaze always on her. Perhaps they should get rid of him, rather than allowing that asshole to torture his kids.

Instead of throwing him across the room and piercing his body with glass, Vanya is busy with different things. Belonging is a constant fight, one she doesn't always want to face. Ben is often around, bringing Klaus with him. Even at thirteen, drugs were already part of his life, something she wrote down yet chose to forget right after publishing her book.

Sometimes, she allows them to drag her outside, to a brand new world she wasn't familiar with the first time around. Her violin case has been opened a couple of times, although she doesn't dare to play, unsure of the amount of self-control she has. It's oddly easy to snap, pushing and breaking everything in the way.

 

_If their father notices, her fall will be a disaster._

 

They sit on the sofa at the hair salon, watching absentmindedly as she is getting her haircut. Well, Ben is sitting, absorbed in a book of his, whereas Klaus is half-laying on the floor, babbling about something she has stopped paying attention to not long ago.

 

He waves when he notices her staring, his grin so big she feels compelled to return the expression awkwardly.

 

“You look great!”

 

“Thank you. You too.”

 

There are purple strands in his hair, something he did himself in the bathroom after a mission. It's ridiculous, yet so Klaus. Vanya wouldn't say she has forgiven him, or the others. That's just—easier to try being alive. She appreciates how Ben reads to her when she can't sleep, the way Klaus holds her hand when she is unable to calm down and small tremors go through the floor underneath them.

 

Still, they are running against time itself.

Their destiny not truly theirs in the first place.

 

 

     “What is the meaning of this, number Seven?”

 

It's funny, really. The way he doesn't come for her about her powers or anything similar, how he doesn't notice the pills she keeps on throwing away each time mom gives her a new bottle. However, a new haircut means the _end of the world_. Vanya cannot help it; laughter grows inside her chest, spreading across the room as she steps forward. She can feel doubt in his mind, the urge he has to step back without allowing himself to show weakness in front of a small child.

 

“It's just me, Vanya.”

 

“And I'm Klaus!”

 

While the intervention isn't necessary, Vanya cannot help but lean against her brother, proud of him and his inability to keep his mouth shut.

 

“How dare you to—”

 

“Suits you very well, what's the occasion, Van?”

 

She smiles, warmly than she would have in another life, as Five steps down the stairs, drink with a colorful umbrella in hand. She is fairly sure it's non-alcoholic. At least, she hopes so. In the same way she wishes for Klaus to—oh, she wants them to get better. How odd.

 

How warm.

 

“I've decided to be me.”

 

Some evenings, in abandoned places, she trains with her siblings, depending on whoever wants to. Diego shows her where to be in peace, sometimes patting her shoulder awkwardly when she manages a semblance of control. Allison is the one who takes her outside after, buying her a smoothie or anything as a way to congratulate her.

 

She doesn't use her voice anymore, around Vanya. She writes instead, as a promise to never use her power on her precious sister ever again.

 

_That's love,_

_that's painful._

 

Vanya lifts her chin until she can stare at her father, eyes turning so clear he can probably watch his confused reflection in them.

 

“I'm Vanya. Move out of the way.”

 

She tugs at her mind, just enough to shove him backward. There is glee in her, something so tender as he crashes down. In a corner, Luther watches, shaking his head and leaving the room without a word. He won't help such monster to get back on his feet either.

 

“You won't hurt us anymore.”

 

That's a promise to everyone, herself and her siblings at once. There is fear in the man's gaze, quickly erased by rage. Thus she shoves him back farther this time around.

 

“You are my child and I won't let you humiliate me in such way.”

 

“I'm not. You have _not once_ treated me like a person. And it's the same for the others—you caused them to hurt me so badly I didn't want to belong any longer. Now, however, I can see who the real monster was all around. It's not me and my powers.”

 

“How do you—”

 

“I did. Nothing else matters.”

 

Before he is able to get back onto his feet, Pogo and Mom observing without interfering at the top of the stairs, Diego extends his leg at the right time. The man falls back, cursing all of them at once, without anyone caring.

 

“You heard her, let's go out to eat,” Ben wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she presses her head against his for a moment. That's the closet thing to a hug they'll ever share, and it's enough.

 

He's alive.

_So is she._


End file.
